


Bloom of Youth

by Karasuno Volleygays (ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: A little bit of tears, Established HanaMatsu, Friends to Lovers Iwaoi, Gay Ice Skating (as ordered), M/M, Multiple Perspectives, Operation: Get Them Together, Seasons Motif
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-09 00:07:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5518133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor/pseuds/Karasuno%20Volleygays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hanamaki and Matsukawa are in love. So are Iwaizumi and Oikawa (they just don't know it yet). As the seasons change and the sun sets on their high school careers, will their futures include each other in ways they won't regret?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. i. 夏 natsu

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Crollalanza](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crollalanza/gifts).



> This was so fun to work on! Writing for you has been a pleasure, and I hope you enjoy the story. ♥♥♥

Sweat soaks through every stitch of clothing on Hanamaki’s body as he wearily plods along with his teammates on the death march disguised as road work. Iwaizumi is abreast of Oikawa at the front of the pack, with Yahaba and Watari not far behind. Hanamaki is perspiring to death beside Matsukawa, while Kindaichi dogs behind them. He thinks they lost Kunimi a block ago.

But none of them are about to give up.

Hanamaki doesn’t think he’ll ever understand the singular focus Oikawa puts into defeating Ushijima Wakatoshi, but he doesn’t need to know that to want to beat the guy, too. After all, to be the best, you’ve got to beat the best. Hanamaki keeps this in mind as he trains his eyes on Iwaizumi’s ever-dwindling silhouette.

A guy can’t walk in the shadow of the ace forever, after all.

“You want to come over after practice?” Matsukawa wheezes. “Dad’s out of town on business and Mom’s visiting Grandma for the week in Hokkaido.”

“Oh yeah,” Hanamaki answers, a grin spreading across his face. “If I’m going to work up a sweat, I would so rather do it that way.”

Matsukawa reddens as he looks straight ahead. “That may or may not be on the menu.”

With the prospect of spending the night with his boyfriend without worry of getting busted by either of their parents, Hanamaki’s leaden legs gain a little extra boost to finish the last mile of their running course. However, even though he is fairly certain he has enough energy to catch up with their captains, Hanamaki doesn’t sprint away from Matsukawa. If he’s going to race to the front of the pack, he isn’t going without his best friend.

He watches Iwaizumi and Oikawa finish the run, swatting each other and sniping like they have throughout the entire running menu. They cap off their run with Iwaizumi pulling Oikawa into a headlock and growling, “Say it!”

“Ow, you’re squashing my ears!” Oikawa cries as he struggles to free himself. “Iwa-chan, you’re such a nasty brute!”

Iwaizumi sneers. “A nasty brute who finished first. Whose victory you see fit to malign with your libelous slander that I would actually let you beat me.”

“Okay, okay, you finished first!” And just like that, Iwaizumi lets Oikawa go. “We’re a team, Iwa-chan! Who cares who finishes first?”

As this argument takes an interesting turn, Hanamaki and Matsukawa come across the finish line, pretending not to watch but unable not to listen in.

“I’m not going to lose to Ushiwaka,” Iwaizumi hisses, crossing his arms over his chest. “We’re going to the Spring High so we can do that, but as an ace, I can’t lose to anybody. Not even you.”

Oikawa grows silent after this, and Hanamaki observes in interest as the two of them fall in step heading back to the gym, shoulder to shoulder and backs the same ramrod straightness.

“Even when they argue, they’re in sync,” Matsukawa mentions as he swipes away the sweat on his face with the neckline of his t-shirt. “I think they’re dating more than we are.”

Hanamaki raises a brow and plants his hands on his hips. “Are you saying IwaOi are gayer than us, Issei?”

Matsukawa huffs. “They’ve always been gayer than us, Taka. They just haven’t realized it yet.”

Suddenly, something fires in Hanamaki’s brain, and he turns to Matsukawa with a devilish smile. “I have an idea.”

Their eyes meet, and Hanamaki knows that Matsukawa understands as he replies, “I’m listening.”


	2. ii. 秋 aki

There is a slow, lingering burn deep in Iwaizumi’s muscles as he propels the barbell in his hands to its peak before carefully lowering it back to his chest for another rep.

“Nine,” comes the soft voice over his shoulder before Iwaizumi makes one last push and docks the bar back on its rack. “Ten.”

Kunimi offers him a towel and a water bottle, which Iwaizumi accepts gratefully as he sponges off his face and then the bar. “Thanks, Kunimi,” Iwaizumi says as he stands and begins his warm-down stretching.

Nodding, Kunimi replies, “It was either this or help Kindaichi with English.”

Rolling his eyes, Iwaizumi chuckles. “It’s nice to know you care about your teammates deep down.”

Kunimi shrugs. “I care. Just not enough to try to explain that ‘has’ and ‘have’ are the same verb tense because English is just dumb. I was surprised when you asked, but it’s been . . . informative spotting for you.”

“Oh?” Iwaizumi quirks a brow. “Why is that?”

Shaking his head, Iwaizumi can’t shake the feeling that Kunimi is formulating a response fit for a child. “I can see you judging me,” he warns.

“You and Oikawa-san are a lot alike, Iwaizumi-san,” Kunimi finally says. “He can do a hundred serves and never be happy with any of them because he has to be the most accurate. You can lift weights every day and bench ninety kilograms ten times in a row and never think you’re strong enough.” Kunimi offers a tight smile that looks more like a grimace. “It’s just interesting to me because I’m not like that. That’s all.”

Iwaizumi eyes Kunimi, unable to shake the suspicion that he is missing some grand implication. Speaking in riddles has always been Oikawa’s territory, while Iwaizumi favors the opposite.

But whatever it is, Kunimi doesn’t give him a hint as he excuses himself from the weight room, leaving Iwaizumi to his thoughts.

It isn’t until ten minutes later that something occurs to him. Kunimi has been spending a lot of time with Hanamaki and Matsukawa lately, who have also been spouting weird, cryptic babble about him and Oikawa.

“Son of a bitch,” Iwaizumi murmurs as he leaves the room and heads straight for the batting cages, where he knows Hanamaki likes to spend his free time on Mondays. Sighting his target, he shouts, “Makki!”

Without missing a beat, Hanamaki makes solid contact with the ball and sends it barreling into the safety nets. Iwaizumi begrudgingly admits that it would have hit or even gone over the fence of Seijou’s baseball field.

“You rang?” Hanamaki pants right before slamming another ball into the curtain.

Iwaizumi crosses his arms and, without preamble, demands, “What have you two done to Kunimi?”

Hanamaki doesn’t even try to hide his smirk as he answers, “Why, I have no idea what you’re talking about? What horrible atrocity is it that you think we’ve done to Kunimi-chan?”

“That’s messed up, dude.” Iwaizumi shakes his head. “Roping a kid into your weird little games.”

Pressing the button on the side of the cage to stop the pitching machine, Hanamaki grins and tosses the bat to the side. “Ooh, I like games. What are we playing?”

They step closer to each other and meet each other’s gazes, despite the discrepancy in their respective heights. “How about twenty questions. I’ll ask, you answer.”

“Fair enough. Shoot.”

“Are you and Matsukawa trying to set up me and Oikawa?” Iwaizumi doesn’t have a reason to beat around the bush.

Hanamaki stares before doubling over, howling with laughter. Iwaizumi watches in horrified interest as his teammate cackles until he sits on the pavement and cries. “What the hell,” is all Iwaizumi can think to say.

When Hanamaki can finally speak, he wheezes, “Dude. _Dude_. I can’t even right now.”

Hanamaki’s amusement needling at something in Iwaizumi, he snaps, “What’s so funny, you asshole?”

“ _You_ and _Oikawa_? Really?” Hanamaki swipes the tears from his cheeks and climbs back to his feet. “What gave you that idea?”

Iwaizumi blinks at the vehement denial and wonders if he might just be acting paranoid. “Well . . . you and Mattsun have been saying all kinds of weird stuff. And just today, Kunimi said something odd about Oikawa and me being alike and he thought it was interesting.”

Quirking a brow, Hanamaki says, “You know how crazy you sound right now, I assume.”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi murmurs, scratching the back of his head, “I just got there.”

Hanamaki claps Iwaizumi on the shoulder. “Besides, you’d never break all those girls’ hearts, would you?” At Iwaizumi’s inquisitive look, Hanamaki adds, “Oikawa’s girlfriends would never forgive you for taking him off the market.”

Iwaizumi bristles. “Like I care about that. What Oikawa does with himself is none of my business.”

“Or who.”

“Of course.” Hanamaki’s words sink in and Iwaizumi reflexively takes a step back. “You’re not saying . . . he would tell me if he did, right?”

Hanamaki hums. “Well, who can really say? You don’t tell _your_ best friend everything. Do you?”

Something in Hanamaki’s tone curdles Iwaizumi’s mood. He wants to shake Hanamaki, declare that he and Oikawa are and always have been more than friends. Iwaizumi himself, however, doesn’t even know what that entails. Are they family? Maybe a little. Soulmates? Ridiculous.

“Well, I’ll leave you alone,” Hanamaki says with a wave as he struts away from the batting cages.

Iwaizumi stands in place for a solid five minutes before wandering over to the only place he can think of going.

Takeru’s volleyball school lets out at five, and it’s almost six. It’s almost certain that Oikawa is home, munching on too much milk bread while marathoning Star Trek in his pajamas.

He rings the bell and finds he is not entirely wrong. Oikawa beams at him and invites him in. “Iwa-chan! I didn’t know you missed me so much.”

“Shut up,” Iwaizumi grumbles as he toes off his shoes. “I had a weird day, and for once, you being normal is new and kind of nice.”

Oikawa passes a bowl of popcorn to Iwaizumi just as some robot cube on the television explodes into smithereens. “Weird like what?”

Iwaizumi crams a fistful of popcorn into his mouth and swallows too early. Coughing, he spits out, “Hanamaki thinks you’re having sex with your girlfriend.”

The only sound in the room is the din of a space ship battle as Oikawa stares at him. “Oikawa,” Iwaizumi says finally, “your mouth is hanging open. I can see your half-chewed food. Gross.”

Oikawa’s jaw snaps shut as he absently chews, his attention never wavering from Iwaizumi. A cold feeling unfurls in his belly, and he almost shivers as he looks away and slouches back into the couch, arms crossed over his chest. “It’s true, isn’t it?”

The popcorn bowl plunks down on the kotatsu before Oikawa pulled his legs into his chest, chin resting on his knees as he gazes unseeingly at the TV. “I should have told you, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa draws a shuddering breath. “We did it and I didn’t like it. I should have just shut my mouth.”

“That would be a first,” Iwaizumi replies, not sure what else to say. Oikawa flinches, and he wishes he could take the words back. “You okay?”

Shaking his head, Oikawa sighs before burying his face in his thighs. “She broke up with me,” comes his muffled reply. “I feel so gross.”

Iwaizumi can’t swallow past the lump in his throat as he pulls Oikawa into his side.

A hundred thoughts fly through his mind, but the one he can’t shake is no longer being sure who Oikawa is to him anymore.


	3. iii. 冬 fuyu

It's a strange thing, picking up after Iwaizumi Hajime. Their ace is and always has been the rock that holds Seijou's castle together. He is the knight who guards the gates while the king wages war on enemy tribes and soothes the king before he burns his kingdom down in a hissy fit.

Matsukawa almost can't believe the foundation of Aobajousai is crying in the shower of their changing room. But he is, and not one damned person on this team will bother him until he's ready.

And then there is Oikawa, who picks up on every nonverbal cue known to man except for personal space. “Iwa-chan!” their captain bellows, making Matsukawa wince. “Stop being sulky; the bus is waiting.”

“Hey, man, leave him alone,” Matsukawa says softly as he sighs. “He’s taking it hard. We all are. The bus isn’t going to leave without us.”

“I know,” Oikawa replies as he gives the showers a worried glance. “I just want him to be okay.”

It’s hard to argue with that, so Matsukawa shrugs and tucks his shoes into his bag. He moves over to plop down next to Hanamaki, wearily resting his chin on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “I’ve never seen Iwaizumi lose it like that. I kind of get why Oikawa’s worried.”

“Yeah.” Hanamaki finishes rounding up his gear before fishing a protein bar out of the depths of his bag. He offers it to Matsukawa. “You want one?”

Matsukawa grimaces. “That’s gross, Taka. The last one tasted like your feet. Literally any other flavor and I could eat it.”

Hanamaki waggles his brows. “Maybe next time, I’ll keep them rolled up in my shorts.”

They both cackle, and slowly, Matsukawa notices the somber mood in the room lightening. They don’t feel the loss any more acutely, but perhaps a lighter atmosphere will help his teammates make the long trek to the bus with their heads held high. They definitely deserve it.

It’s about then that Oikawa manages to wrest a soggy Iwaizumi from the showers, who is a little red-faced but otherwise standing straight. Iwaizumi changes into his street clothes quickly, and once he’s ready, all the third years stand in unison.

The rest of the team follows them out to the bus in a strange, dignified silence that Matsukawa wouldn’t attribute to this group on any other day.

Once they’re seated and on their way back to the school, Hanamaki nudges Matsukawa and says, “Hey, you want to cheer them up?” He eyes Iwaizumi and Oikawa, who are currently sitting as far apart on the same bus seat as possible without falling off.

“Now that’s just wrong,” Matsukawa mumbles, slouching back before burrowing closer into Hanamaki’s side. “Them not bickering is probably one of the harbingers of the apocalypse.”

Hanamaki turns to him, a smirk on his lips. “Hey, I have an idea.” He leans in and whispers into Matsukawa’s ear, eliciting a sly chuckle. “I thought you’d like that.”

“Oikawa’s going to hate it,” Matsukawa says.

Nodding, Hanamaki says, “That is the idea. This will totally work.”

****

"Are you guys sure about this?" Iwaizumi asks as he laces up his ice skates. "I haven't done this in years, and Oikawa's never done this in his life."

Matsukawa and Hanamaki share a look. "We thought seeing Oikawa fall on his ass for an hour would bring some much-needed joy into your life," Matsukawa offers. "Would that assumption be incorrect?"

Iwaizumi chortles. "No. No it would not." He glances down the row of benches to where Oikawa is battling with his own skates. "You guys are the best."

"Of course we are," they both say in tandem. Hanamaki calls over to Oikawa. "Hey, sometime today, Oikawa!"

Oikawa wrinkles his nose and sticks out his tongue. "You can't rush perfection, Makki."

During this exchange, Matsukawa watches Iwaizumi and definitely doesn't imagine the soft smile at Oikawa's pouting expression. If he's wrong about it, he'll eat his own shoe, but he knows he isn't.

In a few minutes, they all take to the ice in the Sendai city center, a winter tradition for Hanamaki and Matsukawa as long as they've known each other, but after their aspirations of making it to nationals came crashing down at Karasuno's hands, this one last hurrah with their stupid best friends seems an appropriate way to put a coda on their school athletic careers.

And the added bonus of Oikawa's utter gracelessness on skates is just the cherry on the top.

Matsukawa doesn't think Oikawa has been this bad at anything in his life, which is only affirmed when the usually sure-footed Iwaizumi is bowled over by Oikawa's teetering bulk three strides in.

"Damn it, Shittykawa, you klutz!" Iwaizumi snaps as he staggers to his feet and dusts snow off of his bottom. "Bend your knees a little and shift your weight back and forth."

"I am!" Oikawa cries as he holds his hands out for help up. When Iwaizumi tries to comply, they both go down in a pile of limbs and profanity.

Hanamaki nudges Matsukawa. "This was such a good idea. They can't keep their hands off each other."

With a cough, Matsukawa bites his lip to keep from laughing out loud when Oikawa lands square on Iwaizumi's middle, straddling his lap in a way that will surely scandalize the flock of bundled up mothers watching from the rink's perimeter.

"Oh my god," Hanamaki wheezes as he pulls out his phone and snaps a picture. With a few thumb strokes, he murmurs, "Say hello to Facebook, boys."

Even as he shakes his head, Matsukawa says, "Please tag me on that. I need it for reasons."

"Already done." Hanamaki holds out his phone to show the post, and Matsukawa can't help but admire the quality of the photography and the moment.

Oikawa doesn't last long before he gives up, and Iwaizumi ducks off reluctantly as well, and they are soon huddled together with a cup of cocoa to share while they watch Matsukawa and Hanamaki cruise around the ice with reasonable skill, gloved fingers laced together.

Matsukawa keeps his eye on Oikawa and Iwaizumi, observing how they pass the cup back and forth, neither mindful of sharing the same spot to drink from as Oikawa burrows his cheek into Iwaizumi’s shoulder. “Taka, look.”

Hanamaki trains his gaze on their targets and coos, “Awwwww. Those two are totally gayer than we are.”

“I think we might actually do this thing,” Matsukawa says, relief adamant in his voice as he thinks that their efforts haven’t been lost on these idiots.


	4. iv. 春 haru

It’s been a month since school ended, and Oikawa is out of Star Trek to watch. He groans as he flips through Netflix, not seeing anything worth watching, let alone engrossing enough to distract him from his heavy thoughts.

No matter how coolly they play it around each other, the moment Iwaizumi confirmed that he was going to school in a different prefecture, something dropped in Oikawa’s stomach that he has yet to find the strength to pick up.

He’s in the midst of trawling the new arrivals for the tenth time before his phone indicates a new text message.

_Dude, you should come to the gym with Makki and me. Your mom says you haven’t left the house in three days._

Oikawa replies like he always replies these days to invitations to do anything and resumes his fruitless scrolling. Fifteen minutes later, however, someone starts hammering on the door and shouting his name.

At the sound of Iwaizumi’s voice, Oikawa awkwardly vaults off the couch, nearly falling as he rounds the corner, and rips open the front door. “So noisy, Iwa-chan!” he chides even as he steps aside to let his best friend through the door. However, Iwaizumi doesn’t cross the threshold; instead, he crosses his arms and glares at Oikawa.

“Put some trousers on, you loser. We’re going out.”

Blinking in surprise, Oikawa doesn’t move to comply. Growling, Iwaizumi clenches his arm and starts to drag him towards the stairs. “C’mon, dumbass. Don’t think I don’t know you’ve hiding here since school let out, drowning yourself in Netflix.”

“Have not,” Oikawa lies, turning away from Iwaizumi as the front door hangs open to the light spring breeze. “I’ve done other stuff.”

Iwaizumi kicks off his shoes and starts to drag Oikawa up the stairs. “Eating, sleeping, and jacking off don’t count.”

Oikawa colors at Iwaizumi’s blunt declaration but allows himself to be hauled up the stairs. He waits for Iwaizumi’s reaction to his less-than-orderly room and isn’t disappointed when the latter curls his lip in disgust. “God, Tooru, you’re practically an adult.”

Iwaizumi’s rare use of Oikawa’s given name partially shakes him out of his malaise. He looks around the room and sees it with new eyes. Yeah, it’s disgusting. The little bin beside his desk if full of dead takeaway containers and old tissues, while his laundry spills out of every corner. His bed hasn’t been made in so long that his comforter is upside-down and sideways over his crumpled sheets.

Opening his mouth to defend himself, Oikawa can’t make the words come out because he can’t defend himself against this. Instead, he wraps his arms around his own middle and lowers his head.

“Hey,” Iwaizumi says, his voice soft as his palm rubs up and down Oikawa’s back. “You want to tell me what’s wrong now? You’ve been like this for a while and I’ve given you your space, but we’ve only got a little time left and I don’t want to waste it like this.”

Oikawa sighs and sits on the edge of his bed. “If I tell you something, will you promise not to yell at me, punch me, or call me an idiot?” When Iwaizumi nods solemnly, Oikawa blurts, “I miss you already even though you haven’t even left yet because I like you.”

“I . . . like you, too?” Iwaizumi’s expression is twisted in thought as he sits next to Oikawa. “You’re my best friend. I know I’m an asshole to you sometimes, but I just hate to see you sabotage yourself like this.”

Letting out a strangled laugh, Oikawa sighs and rests his forehead on Iwaizumi’s shoulder. “That’s not it, but I don’t expect you to understand.” With that, he pastes a smile on his face and leaps to his feet. “But that’s okay. Let’s go do stuff today!”

Iwaizumi smiles at him, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Take a shower first. If you’re going to patronize me, do it without smelling like old laundry.”

Oikawa roots around for his last pair of clean underwear and hops in the shower, confident that even though Iwaizumi is blind to the confession he’s just received, everything will be okay. They’ll always be friends, and despite Iwaizumi not knowing how happy it would make Oikawa for them to go beyond that, they’ll never lose that closeness.

They leave the house in short order and head to the city square. Last time they were there, Oikawa remembers in irritation, was that disaster of a skating trip. It hadn’t been all bad, though, since Iwaizumi was there to help him up and keep him warm afterwards. Looking past the actual skating part, Oikawa has to admit that the night out with Hanamaki and Matsukawa hadn’t been bad at all.

Oikawa’s eyes widen when he realizes that there is a street festival going on, and the streets are lined with attractions, food stands, and all sorts of little trinket shops. It’s May already?

“C’mon,” Iwaizumi insists as he tugs Oikawa towards a particular food cart. “That stand always has the best milk break. I’ll buy you some.”

Iwaizumi leads them to the aforementioned food stall, and Oikawa decides to test the waters and drape himself on Iwaizumi's arm. No dirty looks, no spray of profanity, no punch in the gut. A smile spreads across his face. Yes. Definitely a good idea. Their shoulders never stop touching when they find a spot under a blooming sakura tree to eat.

"This is nice, Iwa-chan. Thank you." Feeling bold, Oikawa leans forward to peck Iwaizumi on the cheek, relishing the brilliant red embarrassment that put the cherry blossoms to shame.

Iwaizumi droops his head between his knees and hisses, "Not here, Tooru."

Eyes widening, Oikawa asks softly, "So, if I did that before we left, you wouldn't complain?" He reaches down and threads his fingers with Iwaizumi's. "Or that?" His free hand coming up to cup Iwaizumi's cheek, Oikawa makes sure their gazes meet before leaning forward and whispering huskily into Iwaizumi's ear, "Or that?"

The chunk of milk bread in Iwaizumi's mouth drops into the grass right before he yanks Oikawa to his chest and smashes their sticky mouths together.

Oikawa Tooru has kissed exactly twelve girls, as well as one boy in elementary school on a dare. He's had (ill-advised) sex once, and masturbated about as much as one would expect of an eighteen year old boy. But in all of those times, he can't ever remember this hot, flowering ache in his belly that demands more, and it’s never been so tightly wound around one person as it is right at this moment.

But as soon as it starts, it ends with Iwaizumi sprawling backwards against the tree, wild eyed and mouth hanging open.

"You finally got there, didn't you?" Oikawa says softly. He chuckles and shakes his head. "That's why I couldn't give Kumiko-chan what she wanted. I don't love her. I love you. And I think that maybe you might feel something like that for me, too."

"I . . ." Iwaizumi doesn't finish that thought. Instead, he stands up, pulls Oikawa to his feet, and wordlessly stomps off with Oikawa in tow until they're well away from the street fair.

Looking around, Oikawa recognizes the area as the alley behind the movie theater, where they went out together for the first time alone when they were kids. Iron Man, to be precise. They had both been starry-eyed and ready to invent super suits of their own to save the world. They had held hands walking there and back so neither would get lost.

They're holding hands right now; however, Oikawa has never felt so far from lost in his life. He can't think of anywhere else he should be other than looking his Iwa-chan in the eye and giving him the warmest smile he's capable of.

"You remember, right?" Iwaizumi asks, voice gravelly.

"Iron Man," Oikawa replies, breath stuck in his chest. "2008."

Iwaizumi’s hands push Oikawa’s up until they’re pinned to the cool wall behind him, leaning in and resting his forehead against Oikawa’s. “Why did we wait so long?”

Oikawa’s heartbeat hammers in his chest at the pained tone in Iwaizumi’s voice. Since their lips touched at the fair, his mind has been copiously mulling over just that. He can think of a hundred reasons, but feeling his breath mingle with Iwaizumi’s and sharing the sweet taste of milk bread and that perfect first kiss, every one of those reasons starts to dissolve under the barest of inspection.

Instead, Oikawa threads their joined hands in Iwaizumi’s hair and lightly presses their mouths together once more.

Unless Iwaizumi is hiding something from him, Oikawa knows today is his first kiss. With that knowledge in mind, Oikawa takes the lead and coaxes Iwaizumi’s mouth open. Slowly, he guides them both through the motions as he feels his own back sliding down the alley wall while Iwaizumi climbs into his lap, their lips never parting.

They don’t stop until Oikawa hears the tell-tale fake shutter sound of a camera phone in the periphery of his senses. Eyes flying open, he and Iwaizumi both whip their heads to the side to see Hanamaki and Matsukawa, grinning like idiots as they both strive to capture the best angle to miss the dumpster a few strides away.

“And you owe me dinner, Taka,” Matsukawa says softly as he smiles at his phone.

“Gladly.” Hanamaki grins as he cranes his neck to see the shot that has Matsukawa so enthralled. “Ooh, that’s a good one. Send that to me and I’ll put it in the album.”

Oikawa’s jaw hangs slack as he watches this bizarre exchange, but Iwaizumi’s tightens up as he regains his feet. He thunders over to their unwelcome guests and grabs a fistful of Hanamaki’s shirt. “What the fuck, dude? Why would you do that, when neither of us would ever do that to you?”

“Um . . .” Oikawa starts before his face reddens and he looks away sharply. “That might not be strictly true, Iwa-chan.”

Hanamaki gives Iwaizumi a lopsided smirk. “Yeah, _Iwa-chan_. You have no idea what we went through when Oikawa started playing matchmaker back in our first year.”

Iwaizumi slowly turns back to meet Oikawa’s gaze, who covers his face with his hands. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“So, all of the weird shit these guys have been doing is because of _you_?” Oikawa sees Iwaizumi’s eyes narrow through the cracks in his fingers. “Because you couldn’t leave them alone to figure it out on their own, they roped _Kunimi_ into this little game of theirs.”

Oikawa winces at Iwaizumi’s sharp tone as he stands up and faces his best friend’s ire like a man. After all, he does have this coming, even if he’ll chew off his own arm before admitting it. “Don’t be so melodramatic. They’re okay, and so are we.”

Matsukawa nods. “Yeah, we’re good. We just figured we owed it to our fearless leader here to return the favor.” He shrugs as he gives Hanamaki a soft glance. “You’re our best friends. Why wouldn’t we want you to be happy?”

Iwaizumi looks back and forth between Oikawa and the other two, uncertainty oozing onto his features. They’ve known each other too long for Oikawa not to recognize the battle happening in Iwaizumi’s head. “Did they try to tell you anything you didn’t already know, Iwa-chan?”

Bit by bit, the harsh lines of Iwaizumi’s displeasure melt away, leaving a wan smile and a gaze that can’t quite meet Oikawa’s in their wake. “Can I see it?”

“Huh?” Oikawa scratches his head in confusion until Iwaizumi holds out his hand to Matsukawa.

With a smile and an elbow to Hanamaki’s ribs, Matsukawa answers, “I’ll show you the whole thing. We’ve got almost a year’s worth.”

Oikawa watches the cascade of expressions on Iwaizumi’s face, his belly twisting uncomfortably because he can’t see what’s in those photos. However, his attention is jarred out of focus when his own phone chimes in his pocket. Out of habit, he pulls it out to find a text from ‘Mattsun’ with a link to a private online album and what he assumes is a password.

After following the link and entering the password at the prompt, Oikawa’s jaw drops. There are over a hundred images, all of which star him and Iwaizumi in some sort of soft, intimate moment. Iwaizumi with his arm around Oikawa, helping him to the bench that last time he worked until his knee gave out. Oikawa thumbing a smudge of soy sauce from Iwaizumi’s chin at a team dinner outing he vaguely remembers. A sketch of Oikawa sleeping on Iwaizumi’s shoulder on the bus, with the latter brushing a stray shock of hair from his cheek — with the signature at the bottom Matsukawa uses to mark everything he draws.

His breath leaves his chest in a puff when he sets his eyes on the picture Matsukawa had just taken. Oikawa’s own eyes are closed, but what he can’t look away from is Iwaizumi. Their mouths are slightly apart, which reveals a warm, loving look that Oikawa has never seen yet instinctively knows is unique to this moment, to them. “Iwa-chan,” he murmurs as his thumb strokes their joined fingers on the tiny screen.

“I can’t believe I never saw it before today,” Iwaizumi says as he sighs and rests his chin on Oikawa’s shoulder, gazing at the image alongside him. “I knew they were trying to set us up, but I didn’t know we were so . . .”

Oikawa raises a brow as he feathers a kiss on the tip of Iwaizumi’s nose. “Grossly obvious?”

Iwaizumi’s face flames. “Yeah. That.” He straightens as he reaches out and closes Oikawa’s phone. “Tooru, I think we have some stuff to talk about.”

Hand in hand, Oikawa and Iwaizumi walk out of the alley, both giving Hanamaki and Matsukawa a friendly wave.

 

* * *

 

“Well, where do you want to eat?” Hanamaki asks Matsukawa once they’re alone.

Matsukawa shrugs. “I could have really gone for a burger a few minutes ago, but with the cheese we just witnessed, I think I might throw up.”

Hanamaki cackles and slaps Matsukawa on the shoulder. “So, how about that place Kyoutani likes, then?”

“The one with those little cartoon chickens on the boxes?” Hanamaki nods, and Matsukawa smirks. “Sure, but only if we keep the boxes so I can draw little Iwaois on them and leave them somewhere for them to find.”

“Oh, Issei,” Hanamaki crows, “you know just how to get me going.”

Matsukawa swats Hanamaki. “Enough of that, or they’ll start following _us_.”

Their eyes meet before they both scoff. “Nah,” Hanamaki says with a flip of his hand. “I think they’re gonna be busy until they leave for college.”

“Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's it. Just some harmless, airheaded fun for your New Years Eve. Much love to you, Carole, and I hope you enjoyed your gift.
> 
> Oikawa setting up Makki and Mattsun is a different story altogether, but it is directly related to why Matsukawa knows what the power bars in Makki's bag taste like.


End file.
